The One Who Came Back to Omelas
by Lizzy Loves Pancakes
Summary: Ellen has always wondered about the mystery surrounding her home city, so she decides to sate her curiosity by going back to the original city with her young son. But some things are better left alone, even utopias... inspired by Ursula Le Guin's Omelas
1. Happiness

With a rustle of leaves, a mild wind swept through the newly green trees covering the mountainous area around the valley containing the city Salemo. Spring had just arrived and the whole area radiated peace in its simple beauty. Tall peaks rose higher than the eye could see into the cloud-dotted air. Further down the mountains lived animals of all sorts, an eco-system brimming with life. Anywhere from edge to edge of the valley, you could relax for a moment in the protective shade of those mountains.

Around the city, there could be seen any number of different people, going about their work, planting and preparing for summer on the farms. Along the ramparts of the walls patrolled the city guards, each equipped with weapons and instructions for raising alarm, watching for any sign of the bandits who snuck around the mountains. Near the gates, two guards checked everyone coming or leaving the city.

Just inside, a feeling of order washes over people as they see the orderly streets and relatively welcoming and friendly city folk. Down one street were the food shops, the butchers and the bakers, sweet and tasty aromas wafting out their doors, enticing people to come inside and buy something. The clanging of anvils and hammers ring down another street on which reside the blacksmiths, the silver-and-goldsmiths, and the metalworkers. The third street contains the inns and the houses of other people who work or live in the city. On the last of the main streets are the political and government buildings, the city hall, the library, the jail, and the academy and schools. During the afternoon, the laughter of playing children and normal sounds of life rise throughout the entire city.

It is not perfect, though, and that is exactly how it is kept. Occasionally, the deep sounds of the church bells toll out, mourning the loss of someone's life. Rarely does the city go a few months without a small-scale attack, yet people still rejoice for the brief moments of peace they have. The people of the city are content to live as they do, and are content with most things, yet they have one thing ingrained in them from childhood: fear of a utopia.

"That'll be 7 coppers, Ms. Kalens."

"Alright, here you go, and thank you! This looks wonderful!"

"No, thank you. Have a nice day now!"

"I hope you find your daughter soon. See you around."

I cannot imagine what they're going through. If someone kidnapped Jake, I'd be hysterical. They are really getting along well with the grief though. But boy oh boy...

I walk a ways down the street, looking around at all the delicious looking food on display there. I turn down a lane leading through Salemo to the last street. Hurrying down toward the elementary school, I catch a sight of my reflection in one of the tall windows of the city hall. My hair is slightly messed up from the light breeze, but nothing is seriously out of place. I shake myself out of it and continue toward the school. Classes are just getting out when I get there. Now, let's see, where's Jake?

"Momma!" Someone calls from my right. I turn and practically fall over from the speedy bundle that just attached himself to my abdomen.

"Hi, Momma! Hey, is that for me? Huh? Is it? Is it?" He asks excitedly.

"Yes, Jake, this is for you, but we can't eat until we get home." I say, amused.

"Then let's go home!" He pulls on my hand, but I laughingly pull him back.

"We'll leave in just a few minutes, but I have to find your teacher first." I look over the small crowd of parents picking up their kids, and the excited kids running around and planning what to do now that school was over, and locate Jake's teacher, Mrs. Dourle. I maneuver over to her. "Hello, Betsy. I just wanted you to know how much all of us appreciate you doing this for the kids. After Mr. Frand fell ill, nobody knew who would take over for the last month. Just, thanks for going to all the trouble. I know kids this age can be pretty wild."

"No, no, no trouble at all, Ellen," she assures me. "They have been wonderful, especially Jake here. He has shown some very great intelligence for a five-year-old. He can read very well for his age, and can even write some things. He is coming along very well."

"Oh, he just loves learning all he can. I was naturally curious and eager for information when I was young also."

"I see. Well, I hope to see him again next fall. Good-bye Ellen, bye Jake, have a nice summer!" She voices.

"Bye Mrs. Dourle!" Jake chimes in cutely. He starts pulling on my hand again once his teacher leaves, and I finally let myself be pulled toward the street. As we walk down, he points out new things and asks about everything he doesn't know about. He _is_ a curious little one, isn't he? Just like I was. Just like I am.

Back then, about ten years ago, I remember being obsessed with the most random things. What can I say? I was fifteen. Anyways, I was always asking about everything, trying to find out whatever I could about everything. I went through phases about buildings, my neighbors, what was _really_ in the school food, and anything else secretive. My last obsession, though, was much more serious. In fact, I haven't given up researching it, though the random interviews and stalking important people phase has died off. What is this thing that has intrigued me so? The city of Omelas. Even with my skills at finding out things, I have just barely scratched the surface of a secret I believe is greater than any I have encountered so far. All I know is that somehow, all our ancestors and the new people who show up are from there, but no one who knows anything would tell me back then, and it hasn't changed. Everyone just goes quiet and gets a sad, almost guilty look in their eyes. It must be something huge, and I plan to find out one day.

"-ma, Momma!" I start out of my thoughts and see Jake tugging on my shirt. "Momma, you gotta open the door."

"Huh? Oh, we're home, sorry." I pull out my keys and open the door. Jake runs inside, straight to the kitchen. He quickly pulls out two plates, two forks, and a knife, and sets them on the table. He then proceeds to sit down and stare at me, as I take my shoes off and, quietly laughing, enter the kitchen. He's so funny, sometimes. I take the cake out of the box and set it on the table. Taking the knife, I cut out a big piece for Jake and another for me. I can see his eyes follow the cake the whole time. Trying to hide a smile, I set his in front of him. He digs in and soon there is frosting all around his mouth. I can't hold it in anymore. I burst out giggling, and he doesn't even look up from his cake. Hehe, I should remember to bring home cake more often. He's rarely this quiet. Oh, he's done. And he wants more. I shake my head slightly, but give him another small piece.

"You know you're going to have a stomach ache in the morning?" I ask, my eyebrows slightly raised. He just grins insolently and keeps eating. "So, Jake, what do you want to do this summer? I know last time we camped on the mountain, and before that, we went fishing. Do you want to do either of those again?"

"No. Uh, Momma, can we go outside the mountains? Danny's family went out once. He said it was really cool. Can we, can we, can we? Please?"

"Well, I guess we could. I myself haven't been out since I was about your age. Why not? We can leave in a few days, and make it a whole-summer trip! We can visit all the places around and maybe even visit the sea. Won't that be exciting? This is a great idea, Jake!"

"Yeah! I'm gonna go pack now! Thanks Momma!" He runs up the stairs, eager to start packing. Now, let's see, I have to notify the neighbors, the mail carrier, hmm, who else? There is so much to be done beforehand, but this really is a good idea. And maybe on the way, we could find out a little more about this Omelas.

"Sir, do you really think it's a good idea to let them out alone? What if they get in trouble? You should know best of all that it can be very dangerous out there by yourself."

"Don't worry. Our ancestors survived to come here and build our beautiful city, and Ellen Kalens and her son won't have any trouble. She can take care of herself," the mayor replied to his advisor.

"In any case, we should give them an escort out of the mountains just to get them out of bandit territory."

"So be it. Arrange a small escort. We cannot spare more than a few guards. It's prime season for raiding cities, and they'll be safer if they're smaller."

"I'll get right on it, sir."

"Well, this is where we leave you, Ms. Kalens." The guard says.

"Alright. Thank you for the help." I say.

"No problem. You be careful now. Have a nice vacation.'

"Thanks. We'll be back near the end of the summer. Bye!" The guards tipped their hats to us and Jake and I waved at them as they turned their horses around and went back to Salemo.

"Well, Jake, what do you say? Shall we start?" I ask playfully.

"Yeah!" He bounces up and down in the saddle of his pony.

"Ok, let's go!"

Over the last months, Jake and I have been through many experiences, strange and great all. We survived nature together. We set up a nightly routine. We would set up camp, tie up the horses, build a fire, lay out the blankets, and make supper. That consisted of bread or any grains we had brought or bought recently, dried fruit, and any vegetables scavenged. It was actually rather tasty, and every once in a while we would find someone with sweets or find some bush or tree with fresh fruit on it. After supper, I would clean up and then Jake would crawl into my lap. Telling him stories, I would rock him to sleep. Then I would lay down near him and fall asleep myself, the aroma of wood smoke lulling me to unconsciousness, the light sounds of nature my lullaby.

Now we are at the end of our journey. Jake and I stand before massive gates, the entrance to a city. A city called Omelas.


	2. Horror

Why is no one paying any attention to us? We walked right into the city without being checked. The people at the inn we checked in to just mechanically showed us to our room. All the people in the streets look like they just were done celebrating something, but got interrupted. Everyone I see in every direction has a slightly nauseated and horrified look on his or her face. There are few people moving, and those all have worry and determination etched into their features. Suddenly, a deep bell starts tolling, and relief visibly washes over the faces of the people. Celebration comes to life once more, and music starts to sound from various corners. Men and women and children dance in place, and some wildly run around in sport. I wonder what that was about. I quietly tell Jake that we should be getting back to the inn.

"Okay, Momma. Can you tell me a story tonight?" he questions, then yawns widely.

"Sure. Now, let's hurry back." I smile at my precious son and usher him back to the inn.

"Alright people," the council member said, "Anybody have an idea for the rally on-" He was cut off by someone slamming the door open and rushing, out of breath, into the hall. "What is it man?" he asked concernedly.

"It..." And he collapsed to the floor. The council members looked around confusedly, when suddenly, everyone felt sick. Some clutched their heads, some cried, and some just got looks of nausea and guilt. After a moment, the head of the hall stood and called the hall to attention.

"Now, people, we must hurry." He stated with determination and leadership in his voice. "We all know what this means. It apparently has died. We must choose a new one." Chaos broke out among the hall.

"We have to..."

"...we can't..."

"...the youngest..."

"...have to get someone, but who?"

"Enough!" the head exclaimed. "We must do this in an orderly matter. Now, we need to know if anyone has more children than others, if there are any orphans, if any--"

"Uh, excuse me, sorry for interrupting, but I believe I have a solution." The man who had run in had woken up. "Just this afternoon a young woman and her son came into the city. They do not come from here. The boy is young, I'd say at most six years of age. We could use him, and then we wouldn't have to use one of our own."

"Hmm, yes, yes, that's brilliant! Marshal, organize a stealth team. We need that boy. And somehow, we need to get the mother far away. We cannot have her ruining it by trying to rescue him. Blayer? You take care of that, and we need, what, horses, ahh, yes, a wagon, special herbs, let's see... "

One of the others walked over to the back of the room and lifted a panel in the wall. Inside was a rope leading up into the ceiling. She pulled it, and the bell tolled out over the city, spreading relief.

"... and they lived happily ever after. The End." I recite the last lines of the story.

"That was a good story," Jake says sleepily, then yawns and snuggles into his blanket. I tuck him in better, and bend down to kiss him on the cheek. I brush a strand of hair off his forehead and smile down at him.

"I love you, Jake," I say gently.

"Love you too, Momma," Jake intones softly, then falls asleep. I stay by his bed for a while, watching his adorable face.

"Sweet dreams, baby."

I slowly come awake. Without opening my eyes, I breathe in deeply. Ahh, the scent of a forest is so refreshing. I don't want to get up yet, these leaves... Wait, leaves? My eyes snap open and I bolt up. Where am I? Why am I in a forest? Wait, where's Jake? "Jake? Jake! Jake? Sweetie, where are you?" I stand up and look around for him. "Jake! Where are you?" I slowly realize that my son isn't around, and I fall to my knees, tears of worry threatening to leak out of my eyes. Where am I? Where is my son?

Okay, I have to think this out. The last thing I remember is falling asleep at the inn in Omelas. Somehow, I ended up way out somewhere in the middle of some unknown place. It stands to reason, then, that my son is still in Omelas. I look around for some sign of where I am. How did I get here? Wait a minute, are those tracks? I bend down closer to the ground to examine the strange markings in the ground.

I grew up on the lower part of one of the mountains around Salemo. My father was a tracker and as a child, he taught me some of what he knew. I learned enough to make out tracks in the ground. I silently thanked my father for those lessons. I straightened, and after one last look around, I followed the tracks. They appeared to be from horses and a cart or wagon. That must be how I got out here.

I have to get back. I have to get back to my son. I force back tears of despair and concentrate on tracking.

"Momma! Momma, help me! No! Stop it! Please! No! I want my Momma!" Jake screamed, fighting his captors as they took him down a flight of stairs. He wriggled, bit, and fought, but he was only a child, and stood no hope against two men. "Please, misters, let me go. Let me go!" he sobbed. They didn't acknowledge him.

Finally arriving at the bottom, they met a severe-looking woman who forcibly took his clothes. She then unlocked the grimy door and pulled it open. The two thugs tossed Jake into the dirty room and before he could regain his senses, they closed the door with a look of disgust. He heard the click of the lock.

Running to the door, he hit it and screamed. He screamed and cried for his Momma. He yelled until he was too tired to stand anymore, then he crawled to a corner, curled up into a ball, and cried. He cried himself to sleep. After a while, he woke up again, and he tried pounding on the door again with his small fists, screaming for help, but to no avail. No one cared about him. When the people came with his food, he tried to escape, but one of them just kicked him back into the corner, and they left. He screamed at them, "I will be good! Please, let me out! Please! No! Let me go!" but it had no effect, just as before. He tottered over to the food and tasted it, but spit it out right away. It was disgusting, but after a while, he got so hungry he ate it anyways. The next day, when they came with more food, the same thing happened. Outside the building that contained him, people could hear the screams at first, but as the first week went on, the noises got less and less frequent, people slowly began to forget about him, going about their normal lives again, and after a month passed, most had already shed the memory from their minds.

_They all know that is has to be there. Some of them understand why, and some do not, but they all understand that their happiness, the beauty of their city, the tenderness of their friendships, the health of their children, the wisdom of their scholars, the skill of their makers, even the abundance of their harvest and the kindly weather of their skies, depend wholly on this child's abominable misery._


	3. Heartbreak

Once again, I stand outside the gates of Omelas. Once again, I enter, but this time is different. I see people celebrating, I see children racing and playing, I see mothers and fathers look lovingly at their sons and daughters, give them an extra hug or kiss when they come near. Suddenly, a feeling of peace and happiness tries to take over. I relax in the feeling until I realize what I am doing. I fight it off and continue.

A month following a trail through the wild has made me tougher. My face is said to be weathered, and a look of grim determination covers my face all the time now.

I walk quickly up the broad streets to the inn I had stayed at the first time. I enter and walk inside, just to get a great shock. The front room looks completely different from when I last saw it. For the first time, I think about how hasty I had been. Jake wouldn't still be in our room. It has been a month. I have to think this through now. I'm in Omelas, but where in Omelas is Jake? I start to despair. The city is huge. How will I find him? There must be many young boys here.

"Hey, now, young lady, what seems to be the problem? Oh, I know. Did you just go see it?" The innkeeper walks over to me.

"It?" I ask, wiping the few tears from my eyes.

"Yes, It, you know," she says in a low voice, "the one who takes all the bad things from our lives. Yes, well, it's really rather sad," she continues in a more normal voice. "That poor boy, not that I'd do anything for it, mind you, but it is sad. I saw it about a week after it was caught. It still had some emotion then. Was crying out for it's Momma, believe it or not."

"It's 'Momma'? I ask faintly. No. It couldn't be.

"Yes. Fortunately, it's stopped now, but before, you could hear it screaming if you stood outside on a quiet night. Had many people complaining that did."

"Can you take me to him?" I won't believe it. There is no way. Oh, Jake, please don't let me be right. Please.

"Well, alright, if you really want to," the innkeeper says, uncertainly. "You know, most people wouldn't want to go near it, but I'm a nice person."

"Thank you," I say, nervous and hopeless. Taking aside one of the servers, she gives some instructions, then turns back and walks toward the doorway, beckoning me to come along. We walk outside and move toward the center of the city. As we get closer and closer, the dread in my heart grows and grows.

Finally, the innkeeper stops in front of a plain whitewashes building. She leads me inside, and we find ourselves in a group of people, kids and adults, going down to see this "it." We walk down a steep flight of rickety stairs, onto a landing that smelled so foul I could practically taste the filth. It's disgusting and horrific that they could keep...

One of the people in front unlocks the heavy door and swings it slowly open, revealing a set of bars like those used in a prison.

The dirty light of the lamps pierces the dingy blackness of the closet-like space.

The first thing I see is a bunch of mops and a bucket. Then I see him. I run to the door and reach through it toward him. "Jake, oh, Jake, what have they done to you?" I sob silently. He slowly edges closer and then I see his face clearly. He had bruises staining his entire body, cuts and scratches covering his face. And his eyes. Those sweet eyes. They hold no recognition. He doesn't recognize me.

I collapse and hug myself, tears streaming down my face, sobs racking my body.

"Miss, hey, come on, let's get you out of here." One of the men reaches down to try to get me up. I slap his hand away and rise by myself.

"How can you see this?" I say quietly, my red-rimmed eyes accusing. "How can you lock up a _child_ in a place like this? Can you really just ignore the fact that he's down here? My one question is: why. Why do you do this? And don't you dare," I yell, "tell me that it's keeping you from feeling grief. How can you be this selfish? How can you do this? He's _five years old_. Yeah, yeah, I've heard, 'Oh, but without him we won't be happy!'. Sure, you may lose this stupid, empty bliss you feel day and night. You may actually have to work together through hard times. But is it that bad?"

"Now, you see here, young lady..."

"No! You see here! You can't really experience happiness without feeling sorrow first. You just can't. But you people, you archaic savages, you dump all the guilt, sorrow, unhappiness, grief, shame, regret, and _everything_ on one small, defenseless boy." I finish in a whisper, "How can you live with yourselves?"

When two guards rush down the stairs and grab me, I feebly fight back, but I have no strength left. I'm crying for my son as they drag me up the stairs, but no one cares. No one cares that my whole world has just collapsed into a pile of dust. My last look at my son, the only reason I am living, is of him looking out of his prison, scared, naked, dirty, wondering whom this person was. Not knowing that I am his mother.

My body is shaking as I am pulled outside and toward the gate. They throw me out and close the gates. I walk and walk, slowly, stumbling, until I walk away from Omelas. Then I run.


End file.
